


the one with the gift

by pure1magination



Series: Stony drabbles [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, B.A.R.F. | Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, Depression, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: What if Tony had invented B.A.R.F. with someone specific in mind?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was not okay when I wrote this.
> 
> but I'm doing better now!

Steve was immediately suspicious when Tony cornered him at five o’clock in the morning with a glint in his eyes. The fact that Tony couldn’t stop fiddling with his coffee cup and kept offering to make Steve a cup of coffee, or a piece of toast, “or seven pieces of toast, if that’s what you’re into. Your metabolism burns at what- four times a normal human being? What is it you eat anyway? You never seem to like anything I offer you. Maybe it’s an old man thing. Are all 90-year-olds this picky? You know, I’d bet Peggy would appreciate a good piece of toast if I offered. You should be more like Peggy. -Here, let me get that for you.”

“I can hold the fridge door on my own just fine, Tony.”

“Right, yeah, of course you can. But if  _ I  _ hold it for you, it gives you  _ two  _ hands to dig in the fridge with. Double the food-grabbing capacity for four times the metabolism. It doesn’t exactly even out, but it’s a 200% improvement over one hand, right? Want me to hold that for you? I could pour you a glass of orange juice. Or have DUM-E do it. You know I have robots that can pour orange juice for you.”

Steve held back a sigh. “What is it, Tony?”

Tony screwed up his nose. “It’s orange juice. I thought we established that.”

Steve set the orange juice down heavily. “What do you want, Tony.”

“Want? I don’t want anything. Just spending some time with my favorite Captain.” He punched Steve in the arm and gave him a painfully fake grin.

Steve raised both eyebrows and stared at him. 

Tony’s smile strained. He gave a nervous laugh, broke eye contact, and fetched an orange to toss between his hands. “Have you been up long?” he asked conversationally. “Have a good run? Drive Sam up a wall yet with lapping him every 30 seconds?”

Steve’s mouth ticked up on one side, but he would not let himself be distracted by Tony’s rapid-fire questions. “You’re stalling.”

“Stalling? What? I’m not stalling.” Tony fiddled with his orange.

“Tony,” Steve said flatly. “Any time you approach me this early, it’s for a reason. What is it?”

Tony scratched the back of his neck. He seemed to be weighing whether to talk or not. But he set down his orange, spun around, and began, “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Here we go.”

“-I’ve been tinkering around with some lab equipment, been studying some psychology, some physiology, psycho-this-and-that-and-whatnot, anatomy, and I’ve been thinking-- what if there was a way we could see our dreams? What if-” Tony had picked up his orange again and was gesturing with it “-I could find a way to access locked memories?”

“Is this about Bucky?”

Tony pressed his lips together. “Look, I’m really sorry what happened with your friend. It must have really sucked getting him back and then losing him again like that. We were all rooting for you, Cap, we really were. Natasha didn’t--”

Steve stood. “That’s enough, Tony.”

“She didn’t  _ want  _ to shoot him, Steve-”

“Tony!”

“-but if she didn’t, he was gonna  _ kill  _ you!”

Steve crushed the glass in his hand. Chunks of glass hit the floor and shattered.

A soft mechanical whirr turned to a slurpy sucking noise as the roomba encountered the mess and began cleaning it up. The robot bumped against Cap’s foot.

He didn’t move.

“God, Steve, can’t you see she’s sorry?”

“Sorry enough to flee the country.”

“To give you  _ space!  _ Because you were giving her the cold shoulder, and- You know what? I’ve had enough. No, I’ve had enough of this. You have been moping, and preoccupied, ever since that scruffy amputee poked his matted head into our lives.” He ignored Steve’s glare. “You dropped  _ everything  _ to search for him. And we get it. He meant the world to you. Brother-you-never-had, best-friend-since-childhood, war-buddy and all that. You went through a lot together. But he’s dead now, Steve. He wasn’t himself. I don’t know if it’s easier knowing the Bucky you knew died in the ‘40s-”

“He remembered me, Tony.”

“-but he wasn’t himself when he died. He was a brainwashed Soviet assassin. He just happened to have your best friend’s face.”

“And his memories.”

Tony sighed. “About that.”

Steve looked up.

“...That… project I’ve been working on. I, uh.” Tony cleared his throat. “...I’d like you to test it.”

Steve furrowed his perfect golden eyebrows. 

“I mean, it’s already been tested. I tested it on myself. Several times, actually. I had to make sure it actually worked. Nothing painful, really. I ran several diagnostics on it, cross-referenced several medical textbooks to make sure I got everything right. It’s not perfect, but it’s… I thought maybe it would help.”

Steve’s suspicious frown sat heavy on his face.

“...Please?”

“What is it?”

Tony beamed. “Follow me.”

*

“This,” Tony said, gesturing widely to an empty room covered in tinfoil, “is the Binarily Augmented Retro Framing system, also known as B.A.R.F. All you have to do is put on this headset,” which Tony put on Steve’s head, “think of a memory, and stand in the room. Start with something simple and easy for starters. Something recent. Just so I can calibrate it to your wavelength and readjust the video and audio output to optimum clarity.”

Steve fumbled with the headset, struggling to secure it. He had to adjust the straps, given his head was slightly bigger than Tony’s. “Do I think of it before, or after I stand in the room?”

“After. Go ahead.” Tony pushed Steve’s back. Steve stumbled forward into the room. “Simple!” Tony reminded him. “Recent!”

Steve pulled a skeptical face. The room around him shimmered and transformed. Thor and Hawkeye appeared, sitting at a picnic bench under a tree in Central Park. Thor belched loudly.

Steve took a hesitant step back. The image flickered.

“Stay with it!” Tony urged.

Steve paused. He stared straight ahead. 

Hawkeye burst into laughter. He doubled over, slapping his knees with both hands. “Good one!” He chugged a large gulp of soda, held up one finger, patted his stomach twice, squared his shoulders, sat up a little straighter, and belched.

Thor laughed and clapped.

“The belching contest in the park,” Tony observed. “I’d heard about this, but I thought Hawkeye was exaggerating.”

Thor and Hawkeye belched back and forth several more times. The past image of Captain America emerged from where he’d been sitting under the tree. He put a fist to his mouth, as though he were modestly clearing his throat and about to lecture them. Then, he belched almost as loud as Thor.

Thor and Hawkeye both stared dumbly at him for a moment.

Then, Thor laughed. 

This set Hawkeye off laughing. “Well, what do you know!” he teased, “Cap  _ can  _ have fun!”

Past!Cap rolled his eyes.

And then Darcy slammed down her cup, opened her mouth, and let loose a belch so loud it startled a flock of birds out of the nearby tree.

The whole group of them stared at her in stunned silence, shared a mutual awed glance, took in Darcy’s smug smirk, and burst out into uproarious laughter.

Steve was smiling. The image had grown progressively clearer and more lifelike, until it almost felt as though he was actually there. He let the memory pause. “Is that enough, Tony?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Yeah. I’ve got it. Okay. Now, I want you to let that one go. Let it fade. And think of something you’d really like to fix.”

“Tony.”

Tony ignored the interruption. “Think of something that went wrong. Something you’d like to go back and change. Just one thing. And I want you to go back to that moment. You’ll see what I mean when you get there. Aaand- go!”

The scene around Steve swirled, unbidden. He stood on a hill in the snow. This was the place he’d come back to a thousand times in his dreams. This was the series of images seared into his perfect memory forever, as cold and harsh as they were inescapable. He looked down at himself, and he was wearing tactical gear from 1942. And when he looked to his left…

“Is this payback?”

Steve smirked. “And why would I do that?” He looked up at the zipline that would carry them to the train.

The series of events followed just like they always did-- Steve went down the zipline first. They entered the train. They shot every Hydra agent in sight. Bucky got cornered. Steve helped him out. His shield was knocked from his hand.

Bucky rose with his shield. He shot at the Nazi behind Steve. Even in his dreams, Steve never knew he was there.

And then.

“Bucky! Bucky, take my hand!”

Bucky reached for him, but he was too far away. The metal he was clinging to tumbled to the ravine below. Bucky clung closer to the door, squinting against the wind.

Steve advanced across the torn wall, reaching towards Bucky. The wall sank under their weight. Steve knew it wouldn’t hold both of them.

And he didn’t care.

“Steve, go! Get out of here!” Bucky cowered against the wall. “It’s not gonna hold!”

“I’m not gonna lose you again!” Steve shouted over the wind.

The wall sank with a sickening rip. Metal groaned. 

“Get your stupid ass off this wall!” Bucky yelled.

“No!” Steve took the final step towards him. “Not without-!”

The wall gave way. 

Steve and Bucky tumbled to the ground below. On their way down, Steve managed to rotate them so Bucky was in his arms, and his shield was pointed down. When they hit the ground, the brunt of their force was taken by the shield. Breath left them with a whoosh.

They stayed there for several seconds. Pieces of the torn wall punctured the snow around them.

Bucky’s arm was bleeding, but other than that, he was fine. His arm was still attached. It was just a scratch.

“You moron!” Bucky yelled into Steve’s face as soon as he got his breath back. “What did you do that for? You idiot, you could have  _ died!  _ You stupid, stubborn, self-sacrificing-! Are you listening to me? Steve!”

Bucky faltered.

“Steve?”

Steve wasn’t breathing. A trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Hang on!” Bucky said, frantic. “Hang on, I’ll get help. I’ll- shit.” Bucky looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere. The only things nearby were snow, twigs, and pieces of fallen train. Bucky leaned over Steve, gripping his collar with both hands. “You better wake up, you stupid punk! Don’t you  _ dare  _ die on me! Steve!  _ Steve!!” _

Steve coughed.

Bucky buried his face against Steve’s collarbone. “Oh thank God.”

Steve coughed harder and tried to sit up, but fell back in the snow. “Buck?” he asked weakly.

Bucky raised his head abruptly, crashing into Steve’s jaw. They both exclaimed their pain, but Bucky gave them barely a moment to process this before he backhanded Steve across the face. “YOU MORON!” he shouted. “I thought you were  _ dead!  _ I  _ told  _ you not to follow me!”

“Had to,” Steve coughed.

“WHY?! Why couldn’t you just let me  _ die?” _

“Buck,” Steve said brokenly.

“You  _ knew,  _ didn’t you?” Bucky screamed. “You  _ knew  _ I was in love with you all this time, and you went and fell in love with Peggy. God, Steve, I knew there was a dame out there for you somewhere, but  _ her?  _ I could never compete with  _ her!”  _

“Bucky-”

“I’m a  _ man,  _ Steve. No matter what happens, I’m a  _ man,  _ and no matter  _ how  _ much I love you, no matter  _ how  _ many times I’ve wanted to dance with you all these years, or kiss your stupid smart-ass mouth until that smug look slides right off your face, I  _ can’t,  _ because then we’d  _ both  _ be dead, and I couldn’t do that to you, Steve! I could be the freak.  _ I  _ could be the sidekick.  _ I  _ could take the fall. But not you.  _ You  _ had to be the hero, don’t you see that? You were always meant for more than me. I’m just-!” Bucky sighed tearfully. “You know what’s supposed to happen to me, Steve. I’m supposed to fall off the train. I get kidnapped by Hydra. I pay for all these thoughts I’ve had about you all these years. All the twisted things inside. Everything that makes me  _ wrong.  _ And you… You go on, a shining golden boy, and go live the all-American dream.”

Steve held both of Bucky’s hands. His ribs were broken, his lungs were filling with fluid, and he didn’t know if the super-soldier serum would be enough to save him this time, but it didn’t matter. This was how it always ended. “Bucky.”

Bucky sniffled and met his eyes, like he’d like to argue.

“At least give me one last kiss before I go.”

Bucky stubbornly shook his head. “You ain’t goin’  _ anywhere.  _ I’m gonna get you help, and you’re gonna be fine.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “I want to die.”

“STEVE.” Bucky frowned at him, shocked.

“Bucky.” Steve turned his head and coughed. More blood speckled the snow. He slowly turned to meet Bucky’s eyes. “I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“You selfish prick,” Bucky said tearfully. “There’s guys out there who  _ love  _ you. Dames too. There’s people  _ counting  _ on you, Steve. I ain’t got  _ nobody.” _

Steve shook his head once. “You’ve got me.” He cupped the back of Bucky’s neck and drew him into a kiss. Bucky came down with him, kissing back with every ounce of passion he’d been holding back all those years. So did Steve.

Tony cleared his throat loudly.

Steve blinked, disoriented. The snow around him no longer felt cold. The phantom pain disappeared. Bucky paused over him, flickering.

“Well,” Tony said. “That’s not exactly the memory I was expecting. But okay.”

“Tony,” Steve began.

“No. It’s okay.” It was clearly not okay. “Did you want me to leave you alone with the machinery?” Tony gestured. 

“Tony,” Steve said again, sounding deeply apologetic. 

“No, it’s fine.” Tony turned to walk away. “You do your… thing.”

“Tony!” Steve called again, but Tony pushed the elevator door button and the doors closed between them.

Steve sat on the floor in the empty lab, his headset in his hand.

*

It had taken several days, several crumpled notes, and several urgent pleas to Pepper before Steve finally cornered Tony.

Tony was keeping his back turned.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“It’s fine.” Tony shrugged a shoulder. “What are you even sorry for? Other than, you know. Hogging my machinery. Oh and that little thing where you wished you’d _ died  _ in 1944. No big deal. Not like you attempted suicide mere months later or doubled your kill rate and took down thousands of Nazis on your way out in some grief-induced rage spree. Or abandoned all your friends to chase down some guy who didn’t even remember you. It’s. Y’know.” Tony took a huge swig of scotch.

“Tony…” Steve stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Tony spun around to whip Cap’s hand off his shoulder, then took several steps away. 

Steve sighed. He gave the floor a very sad and guilty look.

Tony set his empty glass down on the bar. “I made it for you, you know.” He glanced over his shoulder. “B.A.R.F. I made it for you.” He checked Steve’s face, then broke eye contact before the reaction could sink in. “I thought maybe, if you could see your friend again, you could work through whatever it is you were going through.” He chuckled, bitter. “Never thought you’d do  _ that.” _

“Tony.”

“I saw what you did, Steve. I saw how you…” Tony closed his eyes. He turned away. “You committed suicide, night after night. You died for him,  _ every time,  _ Steve. No matter how many times you went back, it was always to see the same guy. And you died. Every time.”

Steve shifted guiltily. “...How did you know?”

Tony gestured vaguely. “J.A.R.V.I.S. I see everything.  _ Especially  _ in my lab.”

Steve pulled a face. He cupped the back of his neck, eyes cast to the side. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Tony.”

Tony shrugged. “Like I said. I made it for  _ you.” _

Steve swallowed. “You did all that for me?” He hesitantly approached Tony. “All those hours of research..? Building the machinery?”

Tony turned away. “Was no big deal.”

“It  _ was  _ a big deal. Tony, no one has ever done something like that for me…” Steve laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony flinched away. “Bet you would’ve been a lot more thankful if  _ Bucky  _ did it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you  _ think  _ it means, Steve? Are  _ none  _ of us good enough for you? You know, Thor tries to understand you based on being from different worlds. Hawkeye tries to make you laugh. Nat has your back, no matter what. Sam has tried to set you up for therapy  _ how  _ many times. And I give you your own room, your own  _ floor,  _ we all drop everything the moment Bucky is sighted, and when it all goes wrong, you just- lose the will to live?” Tony’s eyes glistened, red around the edges. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that people  _ care  _ about you? Didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe Bucky wasn’t your only friend? That there  _ are  _ other people who understand? Other people who’ve got your back? Or did that not make it through your thick star-spangled helmet when we were all trying to comfort you?”

“Tony, I-”

“You  _ what.  _ You’re sorry for being a selfish prick that doesn’t care about his friends? You’re sorry you won’t let your feelings out unless I close you in a dark room for days on end? Or maybe you’re sorry for making me watch you  _ kill  _ yourself over and over again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, you’d  _ better  _ be sorry. And for the record, I  _ never  _ want to see you try that self-sacrificing shit again.”

Steve’s mouth ticked up sadly on one side. “...Although, come to think of it, that does explain a few things. Like how J.A.R.V.I.S. asks me what I’m doing every morning when I pick up my razor.”

Tony waved a hand. “Put you on 24-hour suicide watch. Automatic system.”

“And why Sam has been calling to check up on me so much recently.”

“Most likely person to pull you out of it. J.A.R.V.I.S. put him on speed dial. Statistic-based thing, no big deal. Didn’t go through your phone history or anything. Just observation.”

Steve smiled crookedly, his eyes still sad. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony waved a hand. “Whatever.”

Steve waited for Tony to say something else, but Tony remained silent. Steve turned to leave. Tony didn’t stop him as he walked towards the door. But Steve paused with one hand on the door frame. “Did you watch the tape from last night?”

“Steve. Nothing is kept on tape anymore. Really, I thought we had you integrated into this century.”

Steve’s mouth flickered into another one of those half-smiles. “There’s one memory I thought you might like.”

Steve didn’t elaborate on this. He parted, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts and his scotch.

*

Curiosity got the better of him. Tony booted up the surveillance video from the night prior. He hadn’t watched it, out of a desire to avoid watching his favorite person kill himself over his least-favorite person one more time. 

He was surprised to see that Pepper was there. “Why don’t you try something positive this time?” she urged gently.

Steve favored her with a bashful smile. “You mean something less painful?”

“Yes, Steve. That is exactly what I mean.” They shared a smile.

“All right,” Steve agreed, strapping on the helmet. “Are you staying to watch?” he added self-consciously.

“Tony has been dying to show me how this machine works. It was his bragging point for  _ weeks.  _ Yes, I’d finally like to see how it works.”

Steve smiled self-consciously. “Yes ma’am. But, uh-- don’t tell Tony about this, okay?”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said skeptically.

Steve recalled a memory. The foil room flickered. New York appeared, ravaged by metal-plated aliens. The armor of Iron Man fell through the closing portal in the sky, plummeting towards the ground. Pepper gasped.

The Hulk caught Iron Man’s falling body. He dropped Iron Man on the ground and ripped his mask off. Tony wasn’t breathing.

“Tony,” Steve said, voice raw.

The Hulk roared mournfully. The Avengers slumped, accepting that Tony was dead.

But Steve wouldn’t accept that. “Come on, Tony.” He bent down to slot his mouth against Tony’s. He breathed air into his lungs and beat on the armor in upward motions.

Tony’s eyes flew open. He coughed.

Steve quickly withdrew his hands.

Tony blinked rapidly and looked around, catching his breath. “What happened? - _ Please  _ tell me no one kissed me.”

Steve blushed.

Tony stared at him.

His blush deepened.

“Why, Captain,” Tony teased. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“It’s called CPR, Tony.”

“CPR, my ass. You just wanted an excuse to mash faces with me. Swap spit. Do the facial tango.”

“Tony,” Steve protested.

“No,” Tony objected, sitting up. “That’s not fair. You can’t kiss me when I’m unconscious. Then I can’t kiss back.”

Steve met his eyes, startled. 

“How about it, Cap?”

*

The window was open. A clean breeze blew through, carrying with it the warm, salty scent of the Atlantic. Steve sat, reclined, on a lawn chair, by the side of the indoor pool, his nose buried in a book Sam had given him. He was wearing obnoxious star-spangled swim shorts, a gag gift that Tony was constantly patting himself on the back for. They fit Steve like a second skin.

“Okay, so,” Tony said without preamble, “New theory.”

Steve glanced up from his book.

Tony stood over him in sunglasses, a red bikini bottom, and nothing else. He noticed, with pride, where Steve’s eyes lingered.

“What if,” Tony said, “instead of this trying-to-fix-past-memories thing, we just… tried to move on? You know. Make new ones?”

Steve’s eyes flicked upwards. “I’m listening.” One sassy eyebrow was raised.

“For example,” Tony stalled, “that belching thing. That was a new memory. Something fun, something… spontaneous.”

“You mean like this?” Steve set his book down, stood, strode towards Tony, giving him major bedroom eyes, and crowded into his personal space. He cupped Tony’s biceps.

Tony’s mouth went dry. He stared at Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s mouth curled into a smile.

Next thing Tony knew, he’d been shoved backwards into the pool. 

He spat out chlorinated water, treading water. “You just wanted to get me wet!” He spat out more water. “Admit it!”

“You’re right.” Steve backed up a few steps. Before Tony could ask what he was doing, Steve sprinted towards the pool and cannon-balled less than arms’ length away.

Tony shielded himself ineffectively with his arms.

Steve surfaced, grinning. He spat a fountain of water at Tony’s face.

“All right,” Tony said. “You wanna play rough, you bastard? See how you like this.” He tugged Steve’s legs out from under him.

Steve went down with a surprised laugh. He caught Tony underwater and overpowered him with his physical strength. They found themselves face-to-face.

Tony exhaled a trail of bubbles. He was chest-to-chest with a nearly naked, grinning, Captain America. Whose face was slowly sobering.

Cap brought them up to the surface. He was looking less and less like he was having fun, and more and more like he was thinking something serious. 

Tony scrambled mentally for a way to cheer him up and distract his brain from wherever it had gone.

Steve’s lips parted. He tilted his head and leaned in, watching Tony’s face through half-closed eyes. His bottom lip touched Tony’s. 

They surged together, drinking each other in, hands slipping over naked backs in a hurried urge to pull each other closer. Their suits did little to impede the warm pulsing between them. Breaths grew short and uneven. Teeth nipped at lips. Tongues lathed out to soothe. Hands grappled and slipped. Tongues entangled. Tony found himself backed against the side of the pool, one leg pulled up around Steve’s back. He discovered the exact taste and shape of Captain America’s back molars.

Steve stopped and pulled back. His lips were all pink and puffy, his eyes unfocused. He smiled self-consciously. “Sorry,” he said. “Should’ve asked first.”

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled that mouth back where it belongs.


End file.
